The Next Cell
by meltedpoo
Summary: Even at his most violent, Takao never left.


**Title**: The Next Cell

**Summary**: Even at his most violent, Takao never left. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything.

**A/N**: I heard nobody likes angst? Well, here's some aNGST FOR U

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**THE NEXT CELL**

He hasn't changed.

Or at least, Takao wanted to believe that Midorima, HIS Midorima, hasn't changed. On days when Midorima didn't lose himself to the other side that was constantly gnawing at him and threatening to swallow his identity, he is the same Midorima Shintarou that Takao Kazunari knows. He is curt and lost no words on meaningless chatter but is always, without fail, just a little more talkative around Takao. Their nights would be filled with quiet chuckles and commonplace flirtations, as if they were still being wooed by the other instead of being at the peak of their relationship. Midorima, when himself, is always gentle. He would brush his immaculate fingers over Takao's jaw. He was like a sculptor who held a chisel but did not pick on the marble because he knew it is perfect as it is. Other nights, he is a painter who colored and shaded Takao's features with his kisses. Sometimes, too, he would turn into an actor, reciting words of woe and happiness at love. He is a dancer, a doctor, a writer all at once.

He moves with ease, with deliberate steps and calculated actions.

Takao knows this is because Midorima is being cautious.

His family said it was in their genes. His great-grandfather, a soldier, had it, too. They did not know the exact cause but they attributed it to the war. The old man always said, on his lucid days, that it was a sickness. Somebody else lived inside of him, a part of him that he didn't know existed and didn't want to acknowledge. He was always apologizing, saying it wasn't him, that he didn't mean anything, that he was so sorry and embarrassed. Everyone who saw his great-grandfather then was shocked to see the old man in such a sad state, out of pride and helpless. Midorima's parents cried. They did not expect their son to get the disorder.

Perhaps it went way back but the first time Midorima noticed was on the summer of their second year in high school. He was sitting under a tree, overcome with the overwhelming desire to hurt other people. It was a need so intense that, like a predator, he roamed the campus trying to look for a victim to sink his teeth in. There was general excitement in the air and it sickened him. He wanted to hurt them all, to break their bones and watch the laughter in their faces die and pave way for fear and despair. What he wanted was to assert his authority on them, to break their bones and tear their limbs. The only thing holding him back was the vague idea of reputation that he held. He had a good name and it must not be tarnished; not now. This thought in mind, he retreated, a lion defeated by a sense of self-control.

But

The thirst didn't leave him.

He weighed his choices and thought that a tree isn't a very accurate alternative but that it is close enough. Hungry for blood, he punched it until his knuckles bled. A smile played on his lips. The sight of blood felt good, the pain felt good, but it wasn't enough. It could not satisfy him. His strikes gained momentum, his smiled turned into a grin, there just wasn't enough blood to satisfy him but boy, did it feel good.

"Shin...-chan?"

A veil seemed to have lifted itself and the awareness of what he had been doing came to him. He could not speak. He was afraid of what he had done to himself and ashamed of having been caught. Something red caught his eye and it took him a minute to come to the full realization that he was looking at his bandaged fingers. He opened them wide and stared at them in horror, there was blood in them and it hurt and they were shaking and oh God...they were bleeding still...

"Shin-chan! Shin-chan, your hands!" Takao said worriedly and rushed to his aid.

It was a blur of activity that day. Takao accompanied him to the nurse's office, was asked multiple times what got him so riled up, scolded by his Captain and sent home early. Takao went with him but there was tension between them. Takao knew there was something wrong (it was pretty obvious) but it was the first time he couldn't figure out what _exactly_. This ignorance made him cautious around his friend where normally he spoke casually. He was afraid, too. There was too much blood...and he wanted to deny it but Midorima was undoubtedly grinning back then...

Midorima could not remember how he reacted to inquiries, but since then, it only got worse. The filter that held him back slowly thinned down until it came to the point where he snapped at the littlest of things and had multiple run-ins with different students. He was given medicines to lessen the blackouts but it did not change the fact that he was a changed man. Where once he was respected, he is now pitied and worse still, he pities himself, too. The violence attacked him at random moments and it was hard to keep working normally when you are riddled by the fear of suddenly losing yourself.

He had lost so many things already.

It was the end of basketball for him, too.

The depression that came with giving up what he loved the most seemed to have toned down the violent tendencies that grew in him. For weeks he would get back to his normal routine, seemingly reverted to the old Midorima. They thought he was getting better and that if he continued at this rate, he might be able to play basketball again. His parents, too, shared the same idea and they smiled more, happy at the illusion that their son was giving off.

The hard part isn't the pretense (he could lie that he was getting better), it was the fact that he wasn't. There is only one thing preventing him from turning into a complete monster:

Takao

Takao saw the signs that other people didn't. He seems to have a radar that could detect when Midorima started to lose grip of his coherence. He always claims it's because Midorima's eyes dilates when the sickness sets in; his knuckles would become pale and his breath heavier. It was like seeing a werewolf on the verge of transformation, he joked. Midorima knows it is more than that. Even before the danger signs occur, Takao is always there, calming him down. He has this uncanny ability of controlling Midorima's violent side. Neither too late nor too soon, he would hold Midorima's hand with gentle ease. He never looks at Midorima's face, only straight ahead, letting his fingers do the talking.

Midorima knows Takao is afraid, too. Everybody is. To get close to him is to subject yourself to the risk of physical abuse. It did not matter how polite or softly you tread around him. Every little thing triggered his anger and Takao, of all people, knows this the most. He has experienced first-hand Midorima's strength multiple times before he came to this point of being able to comfort his partner. It wasn't without pain and tears and regret, this stage they are in right now.

Through it all, it was always Takao he valued the most.

It was Takao who cried, not because of him, but for him. It was only Takao who openly admitted his fear of the current Midorima and it is the same Takao who stood beside him, unceasing in his silent care, despite the fear that constantly gripped him. It is Takao who understands best that the violent part of him is not _him_, that it is a disease that manifested itself unto his being and took pleasure in ruining him from the inside. It is only to Takao that his gentle side could feel truly at ease; because it was Takao who saw him at his most violent, it was also him who saw him at his gentlest.

Five years has passed and he still hadn't lost that foreign side of him. He had long since moved out of his parent's house. Nights is when he is at his most lucid and those are for Takao alone.

"Takao?"

"Shin-chan?"

Lying beside Takao, waiting for sleep to come, he wanted to say 'Thank you' and 'I love you' and 'I am so sorry' but he couldn't say it. Despite everything, admitting some things still embarrassed him but he knew that Takao knew because Takao knew everything about him, from his worst, to his best.

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**A/N**: dishonor on my cow


End file.
